


Green Havoc

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Niahm is scary strong and you should not fight her, Shawn is a little shit, St. Patrick's Day, Way Too Much Green, this has no purpose really i just wanna write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Or: If you don't want to get suplexed by an Irish woman of doom, remember your greens





	Green Havoc

**Author's Note:**

> Niahm, Kim and Eska are some OCs of mine from "Of Lost Souls and a Runaway Demon"
> 
> Henry's shirt comes from squiddlydig's design
> 
> Willy Franks is property of Control_Room

The door flew open with terribly loud slam, making Jack flinch violently.

Wearing a screamin’ green dress and an uncharacteristically large wicked grin, Niamh stood on the doorway, as gleeful as a psycopathic serial killer.

-HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY, YA PIECES A’ SHITE!-

Oh. Right.

The lyricist adjusted his hat, endlessly blessing himself for decorating it with a green string. He looked terrified as the woman she stomped her way up to Norman’s booth; the tall dark man stopped her in the middle of the stairs out of fear she’d break them, greeting her gently with his emerald bowtie.

-Finish yer work quickly, will ya!- she said, scanning the area around for anyone who had forgotten what day it was, -We’re havin’ a party this evening and I don’t want no shit left unfinished by then!-

-Does Joey know about this?- Sammy came out of Susie’s booth, an olive hair tie holding his ducktail together. The voice actress followed him, lovely in her jade blouse: -I don’t think he’d let you-

-No, and he won’t stop me! I have NOT hoarded all that booze to get everybody shitfaced next year! We even have a bottle of wine! Cheap as hell, but still. Courtesy of Henry and his HIDEOUS MINT SHIRT.-

From the floor above came a hearty laugh: -You can pry it from my cold dead hands, O’Flannel!- the animator yelled through the floorboards.

-IT WILL DECAY, HENRY. IT CAN’T ESCAPE FATE.- the staff manager replied, raising her fist against him and his questionable clothing choices.

She lowered it suddenly, pointing instead at all those she could see: -ON A SIDE NOTE, HAS ANYONE SEEN SHAWN?-

-NIAMHNIAMHNIAMHNIAMH LOOK!- a thick accent attached to a young man’s voice arrived almost immediately after her words.

The toy maker would have slammed open the door, if his connational hadn’t already done so; and he almost fell flat on the floor. Luckily, he caught himself just in time, and excitedly dragged in a tired Jewish man sporting a lime streak in his hair.

-Sweethearted fuck, Grant, you look amazing.-

-Thanks.-

-What ‘bout me??-

-Yer the same shithead as always.-

The Irish man put a hand on his heart and dried a fake tear under his malachite fringe: -Yer far too kind.-

-Fock ye.-

-Love ya too.-

-Can I go?- Grant asked as he struggled against Shawn’s iron grasp, -I’d rather not accidentaly bankrupt this place because I was late.-

Niamh punched the younger man square in the face, freeing the poor accountant as the Irishman almost passed out on the ground: -We’re havin’ a party tonight. Finish your calculations fast.-

-Will there be booze?-

-You seriously think there wouldn’t?-

Cohen blew her a blessing kiss and, sighing, headed down to his office.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thomas squinted his eyes. The O’Flinnal siblings were up to something yet again.

Even after the idea for the characters (a mischeivous singing pair composed of a raven and a hooded crow) had been scratched, people had never stopped referring to the Irish duo that was supposed to voice them as such.

The two themselves couldn’t have minded it less; they’d started it after all, as soon as they recognized the familiar sound of Gaelic curses filling the air between them. They’d slapped each other like only a pair of brothers would. Shawn fell over after being hit. Niamh did not joke when it came to hurting.

“When you see the O’Flinnal come, you’re in trouble to the bone” soon became a sadly well-know saying in the Studios.

So, noticing the two green clad imps coming towards him full force like Pointers stalking a rabbit, he slowly got covered in cold sweat.

-Mornin’, Tom. Pray these focken’ pipes don’t burst today or I’ll kill every last one of us.- Niamh greeted him as she eyed his clothes all the way down to his mantis belt, grin never once faltering, -Yer safe. Really good.-

-Safe from what?- the mechanic asked, worriedly. But her attention had been immediately taken away by Shawn’s elbow unpolitely sticking itself in her stomach.

Her gaze turned to Wally, minding his own business as he walked down the corridor to go clean some mess. Her trained eyes spotted the problem: she ran up to him and slammed herself on the floor, the forgetful janitor’s head held tight in her arms to carry him down with her under Thomas’ horrified eyes.

But while she stood up as if that terrible blow had been nothing, Wally remained perfectly still on the wooden floorboards. Not even when Shawn tied a chartreuse string to his wrist, screaming HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY in his ears, did he move an inch.

-Are you alright?- Connor finally asked him when the Irish devils had run away to claim new victims.

The janitor waited a second before answering: -I don’t think I can move any of my limbs.-

-… You want me to take you to the infirmary?-

-Yes please.-

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kim barely looked up from the Barley he was stuffing when he heard a pair of feet jump down the stairs.

-If you’re looking for Willy, he’s just around the corner.-

Shawn stopped dead in his tracks: -How’d ya know it was me?-

The second toy maker chuckled, turning slightly on his chair to face him: -She’s a lot heavier on the steps than that.-

-Oooh, ho ho, recognizing yer lovebird by her steps now, eh? Ye even put on a nice shirt, dig the yellow-green stripes! Bet she’ll want it on her bedroom’s floor!-

-Whatever you say. Really now, though, you should go and say hi to your sweetheart. He’s been looking for you since he checked in.-

-Oh hell!- he muttered, and bolted in the direction Kim had pointed. He really hadn’t stopped to greet the young janitor that morning, too caught up in painting Grant’s hair. A horrible thought came to him, causing a shiver to crawl on his spine: if Wally had forgotten to wear green, then, could he… ?

-Good morning, Shawn!-

Oh, what a man.

So beautiful, wonderful, sweet.

With a tired smile and eyes that sparkled excitedly just for him.

An absolute piece of art.

And just as oblivious as his twin.

Shawn didn’t allow himself to truly bask in the other man’s beauty like he did every day, for they could not waste a single second, let alone five whole minutes. He hurriedly grabbed a paint jar with a hand, Willy with the other, and closed the two of them in a small room. Before explaining anything, he took a comb out of his pockets and dipped it in the paint.

Willy gave him a terribly confused look that almost made him feel bad: -What the? What’s happening?-

-Happy St. Patrick’s day, mhurnin!- he smiled, carefully combing the Harlequin shade in his love’s curly hair, -Here’s to you not getting supplexed into the floor by a certain Irish rose!-

Color drained from the janitor as he huttered a blessing under his breath. Sure, the Irishman had told the staff manager about his problems and she’d started going definitely easier on him, careful not to break his spine like she did with everybody else. But a hit from Naomi was still a hit, and a damn strong one.

Fortunately, his guardian angel had him covered.

Could he love that man more?

Evidence had begun pointing to “absolutely”.

-Shawn, I know you’re in there.- Niamh’s muffled voice caught them by surprise, -I’m perfectly aware I’m ruining the moment, but I just smashed Johnny into oblivion and I think I need help hiding the body. So get the fuck out.-

The two men gave each other a look.

-Five more minutes?- her not-brother tried.

-You’ll make out with yer boyfriend when both of you’ll be shitfaced on the floor, now I need ya to be out of this damn closet before I break down the door!-

-Okay, damn! Shit!-

-Just so you know,- Willy objected, slightly bitter, -if Shawn decides to, as you so eloquently put it, get 'shitfaced', he can do what he wants. But if you think I'm even touchin' a drop of the stuff, I'd suggest ya think again. Also he knows that if he gets smashed, he's getting no kisses.-

Shawn pouted childishly, and left a soft kiss on Willy’s lips: -I’ll save a dance fer ya tonight.- he giggled, admiring his lover covering his own face with a red hue before joining his not-sister outside of the room.

-Where’s the corpse?-

-There.-

-… There’s nothing there.-

-I can see that. Kim, where did Johnny go?-

-Oh, I don’t know. But I think I saw Eska some seconds ago.-

-Does Eska eat dead bodies?-

-He might.-

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Alison hadn’t been informed of this… Tradition, if one could call it so.

And now that she’d seen it, she’d locked herself in the bathroom.

-Ms Pendle, please, you can’t stay there forever.-

-Yes I can.-

-Alison…-

-I’m not changing my mind.-

-Allie, please.- Joey begged. His tendency to nickname employees had been cause of severe misunderstandings and serious grudges, but of course to him that didn’t mean he should stop. -I can assure you, nothing will happen to you.-

-How can you be sure?-

-You’re wearing green!-

-What if it’s the wrong shade?-

-Why would there even be a wrong shade?-

-Oh, I don’t care, I’m not coming out of here.-

The animator groaned.

He really, really needed Diane Devil for this episode. But just how could her lines be done, if she was stuck on a toilet?

-Allie, I’m begging you, just get out of there. You can lock yourself in your booth if you want, just read those l-

The door flew open so fast it hit him straight in the face. He could only see the edge of Alison’s viridian skirt as she darted to the music department with a terrified sprint.

Oh well. At least he’d gotten her out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

-Lacie, Lacie, listen, it’s gonna be so good-

-No.-

-Why?-

-I don’t wanna be fired.-

-I’ll say I did it! I’ll scream immediately after that and he won’t suspect a thing!-

The female mechanic squinted her eyes: -Are you sure?-

-One hundred per cent sure. Please!-

With a sigh, Lacie grabbed one of the small balls on the counter. Adjusting her pistachio headband, she aimed carefully… And perfectly hit Bertrum’s top hat.

The creator of Bendy Land ducked as soon as he felt his head naked; he then looked around, outraged eyes burning to find the culprit.

-BERTIE’S GOT NO GREEN!- Shawn immediately yelled at the top of his lungs. Bertrum turned to him: -MR. FLYNN! YOU BETTER-

Too late.

Niamh came in screaming and charged him like a Spanish bull, crashing him against a wall.

Lacie snorted. Half of the workers were petrified; the other half, too scared to help their boss. Bertrum’s hat, with its lovely avocado bow, laid like its owner: angry, confused and in need of a doctor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

-Why, hello there! Have you ever had your almost lifeless body be dragged through the vents?-

Thomas stared at the organist with clear concern. Wally, still unable to properly move and therefore stuck in his arms, replied for both of them: -Nope.-

-Well, I have.- Johnny smiled, laying on one of the beds in a paralisis similar to that of the janitor. His face was covered in digits of olive paint. -It was quite the experience!-

Eska remained sat on the infirmary table, eyeing the newcomers like an hawk.

He didn’t express any emotion, as usual. And, as usual, it creeped the hell out of every single person in his range of sight.

-He brought me here.- the organist said, pointing at him, -After Niamh crushed me on the floor.-

-Oh, I feel you.- Franks sighed.

Connor stared back at Eska, apparently trying to assert his dominance.

Not succeding, he asked, brows furrowed: -Did you paint your mask?-

-No.-

-So you just… happen, to have a green mask.-

-Yes.-

-That looks like a skull.-

-All my masks look like skulls.-

-You have more than one mask?-

-Yes.-

-How many?-

-Some.-

-I… who cares. How come you always wear the same one?-

-Others are for holidays.-

-You have… Hold on. So what you’re saying is, you have several masks (all of which are shaped like skulls), and apart from the one you always wear they’re all colored according to a specific holiday?-

Bicolor eyes pierced the mechanic’s soul from their shamrock green wooden sockets: -Yes.-

-Couldn’t you just wear something green?-

-No.-

-Why? You don’t have, I don’t know, green clothes or something?-

-I don’t have clothes.-

Awkward silence followed.

-These are my only clothes.-

The awkward silence continued.

-So you have more masks than clothes?- Wally asked.

-Yes.-

The factotum waited a minute more, drenched in the undescribable looks of the three workers. Then he slithered in the open vent like a lizard and left, his body thumping in the hollow air duct.


End file.
